Rough
by AlkalineTeegan
Summary: Could it be that love and pain are synonymous in that head of yours? Rated strongly T for sex, violence and language. Tony/OC, Tony/Gibbs friendship


It was the third time this week that he had awoken to her rubbing her face against his rough cheek. She was blond and beautiful, the catlike movements of her lithe body echoing her feline grace. He opened his eyes to find himself still tired thanks to a combination of a hellish case and the fact that they hadn't gone straight to sleep the previous night. As if they ever did.

Her cheek was slightly reddened by the scratchiness of his beard, as it always was.

He let his eyes close again as she started moving against the length of his body, her whisper-soft lips at his throat. Her miniscule body weight was enough to keep his right arm pinned and she grabbed his left wrist as he moved to touch her.

"No, Anthony," she said firmly, slapping his hand away with a crisp snap of flesh on flesh. "Don't make me tie you up again."

His hand dropped immediately, as if the limb itself knew she would. He still bore the marks of faint bruising on both wrists from the last time he had disobeyed her. A small part of his mind wondered why he let her so dominate him like this. He'd never really been a fan of rough treatment in bed before her, but had he been thinking about anything other than her hypnotic touches, he would have realized it was because she had roped him into it slowly. It had started with the feel of her nails on his back that first night, and he had figured that was normal enough. Plenty of women had left those marks on him. But she had slowly dug deeper as their nights grew longer and more frequent, and he woke up one day to find her gone and his sheets tinged with streaked blood and he hadn't thought twice about it.

And so it didn't seem all that out of the ordinary when he said, "Easy on the neck. It's too warm for sweaters." And so he didn't even flinch when she huffed out an angry breath and bit him deeply at the sensitive intersection of throat and collarbone.

"Guess you're wearing a tie today," she breathed, pressing her lips to his and swallowing his moan.

He felt the dueling heat of her body on his and his own warm blood, and concentrated on the former. She moved on him in a rhythm as old as time, and he let himself enjoy it, even if he felt the slight panicked dizziness at his inability to move that he was slowly learning to ignore. He wanted to turn her onto her smooth back and finish this himself, but he knew he couldn't. The multicolored imprint of her small fist still stained the delicate arch of his ribcage from the last time he had tried that.

He felt the sharpness of her nails on his chest and imagined her sitting at home honing them into pretty plum-colored weapons. He realized somewhere in his rational mind that he had no idea what she did for a living—or where she lived, for that matter. He'd met her at a club one night and had some of the best drunk sex of his life—from what he remembered, anyway. So when she showed up on his doorstep the following night, he had let her in, her magical mouth muting his questions. Had he been thinking rationally, it should have bothered him that neither of them had spoken that night, their only communication her hand pressing over his lips and a whispered, "It's more fun if we don't talk."

And it _had_ been more fun, and he found himself enjoying relying on her moans and whimpers to guide his hands, his mouth, his...

Rational thought left the building in a moment of mind-numbing pleasure followed by stunning pain as she punched him hard, just above his hip on his left side, trapping nerves between the bone there and her knuckles. His eyes flew open but her hand suddenly left him blind.

"Shhhh," she hissed into his ear, her quivering body pinning his. "Just feel."

He nodded mutely, letting his shivers subside and breathing through the pain in his aching side. He felt even colder as she slid from his body, taking the blanket with her as she moved toward his bathroom. Her voice was as sharp as her nails when she said, "You won't be here when I get back."

He nodded again, waiting until she shut the door before hauling his exhausted body from his bed and hurrying down the hall to the main bathroom. He had to move fast, and he showered and dressed with lightning speed, grabbing his gun, badge and keys, and fleeing his home just as he heard the bathroom door open.

* * *

Gibbs entered the squad room, frowning at the sight of his senior agent already at his desk and flipping through a file at 0600. It wasn't the first time DiNozzo had been early this week, despite the dark circles under his obviously tired eyes. Gibbs also didn't miss the faint bruising at his throat, and he would have said something to the agent about professionalism and keeping his personal life out of the office if he hadn't also seen the much less faint bruises on his wrists. He wasn't sure if it was the fact that DiNozzo dressed so carefully to hide the marks or if Gibbs just really didn't want to have a talk with him about his sex life, but either way, the lead agent decided to leave that issue alone.

"Couldn't sleep?" Gibbs asked gruffly, broaching the safer—and more relevant—subject.

DiNozzo looked up from the file, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Nope."

"Rough case," Gibbs said, watching suspicion curl like smoke through the green eyes watching him so intently.

"Yep."

"Ducky could give you something to help with that."

DiNozzo blinked in shock, disbelief written plainly across his face, and he did not speak.

_She bite your tongue, too?_ Gibbs thought, shaking the thought from his head a second later. Hickies and being tied up were a far cry from actual violence, and while Gibbs was having a hard time imagining DiNozzo giving up any sort of control, he knew the young agent could take care of himself.

"Yeah, that's not for me either," Gibbs said, knowing his suggestion had deeply unsettled DiNozzo. "I'd rather build a boat."

He waited for DiNozzo to say something, but the agent had gone back to the file without so much as a half-smile or a nod.

"And we know how you usually deal," Gibbs said, not surprised when Tony's eyes snapped up to meet his. He was surprised, though, by the wisp of fear that passed quickly through them. But Gibbs just shrugged, giving up the conversation. He really didn't want to talk sex with DiNozzo, and he doubted his agent wanted to either.

"We need to talk to Kellerman," DiNozzo said, his tone perfectly normal, as if they hadn't just made a quick dash to the emotional bedroom. There was no fumbling of buttons on DiNozzo's part, and that had Gibbs marveling again at the young man's skill. "He's the only one who had contact with both the victim and the hooker."

Gibbs just nodded, grabbing his gun from his drawer. "Let's go."

DiNozzo didn't move, regarding Gibbs with that look again—the one that the older man would have sworn was fear if it had been anyone else. "We're not going to wait for McGee and Ziva?"

"Does it look like I'm waiting?"

DiNozzo silently grabbed his gear and followed his boss, cold dread taking up residence in his stomach next to his hunger, making him realize he hadn't had time to eat breakfast before his flight from his home that morning.

* * *

Gibbs cursed his decision to not wait as he watched his agent take off after the fleeing Kellerman, a hulking bear of a man who unfortunately also managed to be quick as hell. Gibbs ran back to the car, glad the one agent he had with him had been a standout college football player. The thought of McGee trying to catch and take down the massive suspect made Gibbs wince as he started the car and headed around the block to cut off his flight path. He sped around, slamming on his brakes and getting out, his eyes scanning the alleys for either suspect or agent. There were several possible ways they could have gone, and Gibbs bit back his frustration as he wasted precious moments looking and listening for a clue, for anything.

He finally heard a sharp cry of pain and followed the sound into the nearest alley just in time to see DiNozzo deliver a vicious blow to Kellerman's red, angry face. The man barely flinched though, and he drew back and punched DiNozzo hard, grabbing the stunned agent by the throat and shoving him against the brick wall, his head making contact with a sickening _crack_. Gibbs moved down the alley, gun drawn, shouting "Freeze, federal agent!" just as Kellerman slammed a fist into DiNozzo's belly, dropping him to his knees onto the dirty pavement. Kellerman's final act was punching DiNozzo again, a brutal shot to the mouth, before Gibbs' bullet slammed through his skull.

Gibbs ran the rest of the way to his agent, barely looking at the corpse beside the bleeding, gasping man who was still on his knees. DiNozzo tried to stand, but Gibbs put a firm hand on his shoulder and barked, "Stay down, DiNozzo," as he pulled his cell to call an ambulance. The agent collapsed back onto his heels before sliding the rest of the way down the filthy wall and stretching his long legs out in front of him. Gibbs made his calls, watching Tony struggle to breathe normally.

Gibbs flipped the phone shut and put a gentle hand on Tony's face. He was bleeding from the mouth and nose, and his left eye was already starting to swell. _Shit. I should have waited. I'm sorry, Tony._

DiNozzo tried again to get up, and Gibbs barked, "I said stay down." It didn't surprise either of them that his guilt and concern came out as frustration and anger.

"I'm fine," DiNozzo finally managed to say, and it made Gibbs wince. Good thing he spoke damaged and swollen because otherwise he would need a translator to understand the spongy, malformed words.

"No, you're not," Gibbs said, eyeing the blood running down his agent's face and feeling as guilty as if he had delivered the vicious blows himself. "You're going to the hospital to get checked out. Lean forward so you don't swallow all that blood."

That wholly confusing fear flitted through green eyes again. "No," DiNozzo said as forcefully as he could. It came out soft and jiggly as jello.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, none too gently pushing the agent's head forward, immediately feeling guilty when his hand found the lump of swelling at the back of his skull. "Yes, you are. Knock it off, DiNozzo. That wasn't enough of a fight for you for one day? Now you're gonna go two rounds with me on this?"

Gibbs expected more anger so he was shocked when DiNozzo's eyes dropped to his skinned, puffy knuckles. "Please, Gibbs."

Now_ you decide to fight dirty, Tony? Just what the hell is going on with you?_

"You'll let Ducky look at you," Gibbs said, giving in without actually giving in.

DiNozzo still looked sick, but he nodded. "Ducky. Yeah, fine."

* * *

"Ducky, please," DiNozzo begged an hour later, his arms crossed over his chest even though it hurt. "I'm fine."

The doctor frowned hard. "I'm buying you a dictionary for Christmas, Anthony. You are most certainly _not_ fine—not even close. Your nose is broken, and judging by how stuffy you sound, your sinuses are probably full of blood. I just put a pair of stitches in your lip, and I highly doubt you can see much out of that left eye. And that's just the damage to your face. That knot on the back of your head—from a violent collision with a _brick wall_—and your pupil reactions mean you likely have a concussion. And that's just what I can see. I need you to take off your shirt so I can finish examining you for other injuries."

"I'm fine, Ducky," DiNozzo said again. "There's nothing else wrong with me. He seemed intent on staying above the neck. I think he was just jealous because I'm prettier."

Gibbs had been lurking silently while Ducky treated his agent's injuries, but his head snapped up at DiNozzo's words. "We're a team, DiNozzo. And teams don't lie to each other. What the hell is wrong with you?" he growled, ignoring the chastising look Ducky tossed at him.

"I didn't lie," DiNozzo protested, his voice as strained as if Kellerman's hand was still wrapped around his throat. "I'm fine."

Gibbs glared. "I saw him sucker punch you. Lose the shirt. We had a deal."

"And I kept up my end," DiNozzo said, managing an edge to his weak voice.

"No, you're not," Gibbs said, crossing the room and moving into his agent's space. "I will drag you to the hospital, cuffed, kicking and screaming if I have to. You're hurt, and you will let Ducky look at you or I start cuffing and dragging." The promised bracelets glinted in the harsh light of autopsy as they dangled from Gibbs' finger.

DiNozzo's eyes burned with fury—and something else Gibbs couldn't quite read. Ducky was thoroughly disquieted by the anger in both of them, mostly because he didn't understand it. Concussions caused irritability, sure, but Tony was acting almost frightened at the thought of a continued exam. Yet he'd given only minimal protests at treatment of his facial injuries.

"I swear, Anthony, you seem to be getting more and more stubborn as we go on," he said, stepping between them and giving Gibbs a look that clearly said "Back off."

Gibbs stepped back, but his icy blue eyes bored into DiNozzo's green ones. He watched the agent fumble with his buttons, his right hand badly swollen from the brutal blows he had landed. Ducky gently moved his hands away to do it himself, and damned if DiNozzo didn't turn his head away in what Gibbs finally recognized as shame. _What the hell?_

Gibbs moved behind the table on which DiNozzo sat, ostensibly to give him back a tiny bit of privacy, but it was also to hide his reaction to seeing that strange emotion. What could DiNozzo possibly have to be ashamed of? He'd gotten his ass kicked, but Kellerman also outweighed him by about 50 pounds and had been fighting for his life, knowing he was going down for murder if apprehended.

Ducky's sharp intake of breath jerked Gibbs back into the present, and while he had been half-expecting the bruises on DiNozzo's shoulder blades from contact with the wall, the long, deep scratches marring his back took him wholly by surprise. Some looked fresh, but most were in some state of healing. The bruises on Tony's neck and wrists suddenly flashed through Gibbs' mind, making him want to hit something—hard.

"Oh, Anthony," Ducky breathed, his eyes flicking up briefly from the livid bite mark in his shoulder to his eyes and back down again to the long scrapes marking his chest. Tony sat stripped to the waist—to the very soul?—as Ducky's eyes took in the bruises in varying stages of healing. But all he said was, "He _bit_ you?"

DiNozzo barked a harsh laugh that turned into a cough. "Come on, Ducky. I appreciate your giving me the chance to lie, but you're a medical examiner. We both know that little bite didn't come from that massive son of a bitch's ugly grill."

Ducky met Gibbs' eyes over Tony's bare shoulder. The lead agent looked ready to murder someone, possibly DiNozzo himself. Ducky said firmly, "Jethro, out. Now."

Gibbs' mouth dropped open farther than Tony's. He rounded on the doctor, his eyes going wide as he took in the damage to DiNozzo's chest and stomach—from both Kellerman and presumably the same person who had sunk her teeth into his flesh. He fought the warring, polar urges to slap DiNozzo silly and to hug him tightly, tell him he didn't deserve this abuse. Just looking at the injuries made him sick, and he turned on his heel and swept out of autopsy, leaving a burning trail of rage in his wake.

Ducky didn't speak as he cleaned the bite and the deepest of the scratches.

"Your back, too?" he asked when he was finished.

Tony nodded, his cheeks burning with anger and shame. He knew Ducky wasn't going to let this slide, and he tried to concentrate on that confrontation instead of Ducky's gentle hands hurting him. With the doctor behind him, he let his eyes close in pain for the first time since entering the chilled air of the room. He ached from head to toe, and he knew it wasn't over yet.

"Lie back for me," Ducky said, his brevity as painful as DiNozzo's broken nose. Ducky's hands were warm on Tony's bare skin as he helped him ease onto his back and pressed gingerly on his bruised belly. DiNozzo flinched as those hands found a tender spot, and Ducky murmured, "I'm sorry, Anthony. I know that hurts."

Tony's chest went tight at the soft words as he realized it had been a long time since anyone had been this kind, this comforting to him. Ducky seemed to sense his distress and he helped him back into a sitting position and cupped his face in his hands.

"Talk to me, Anthony. Please," he said, his kind eyes searching DiNozzo's troubled ones.

"What is there to say, Ducky?" he answered, suddenly feeling exhausted. His aching head was making him dizzy and he pressed two fingers to his temple.

Ducky handed him back his shirt. "Let me get you something for the pain, my dear boy. I can't give you anything very strong because of your head injury, but this should help take the edge off. You're lucky, considering the size of that man. No broken ribs, no bleeding."

"Thanks," Tony murmured, dry-swallowing the proffered pills.

Ducky moved back in front of Tony and surprised him by taking him by the hands, his touch soft but firm—and instantly calming. "Just talk, Anthony. I won't judge you."

DiNozzo sighed, wincing at the end of the breath. "I met her at a bar. She wasn't like anyone I'd ever met before. I just felt like she knew me, and I knew her. Which is funny, because we barely talked. We generally don't talk. I was pretty drunk that first night and passed out, um... after. And she told me not to talk the second night. I don't know anything about her, but I let her control me. It started slowly, a scratch here or a nip there. It built so slowly that I don't even think about it now."

Alarm bells louder than Big Ben were clanging around in Ducky's head at Tony's soft admissions, but he just said, "You let her hurt you. Does she like it in return?"

Tony closed his eyes in pain, and Ducky knew it wasn't his physical injuries this time. "Once we got into a rhythm of things and she was leaving marks on me, she told me she was jealous of them. She's asked me to hit her, and she would try to guide my hands…"

He looked sick and Ducky's heart ached for him even as he wondered how DiNozzo had ever let it get this bad. "I wouldn't. I can't. And the more I resist, the more angry she gets, the more she hits me. But I don't care. I will not hurt her back."

Ducky was relieved to hear that, but not surprised. "I know you wouldn't. But why, Anthony?" he asked softly. "Why do you let her hurt you? Please don't tell me you think you deserve this rough treatment?"

"Some people just like it rough," he said, but it came out as a question.

Ducky frowned, his hand moving back to Tony's face, and he noted how DiNozzo unconsciously leaned into the gentle touch. "Yes, some people do. But we both know how you feel about control. I'm having a hard time reconciling your needs with this behavior. I'm very worried about you, Anthony."

Tony looked away, his eyes filling with tears, and Ducky realized all over again how inept the agent was at dealing with kindness. Point a gun at him and he'd crack a joke, but show him a scrap of decency and it was like Kellerman's sucker punch. It broke the doctor's heart and he pulled the young man into his arms, hugging him carefully, being especially mindful of his numerous injuries. "Shhh, my dear boy, don't worry. It's okay to cry. It's going to be all right. You just need to break it off with this woman and everything will get back to normal soon enough."

DiNozzo pulled back, all traces of the tears instantly gone. "I'm not breaking up with her," he said, watching Ducky frown. "I like her. I need her."

Ducky opened his mouth to protest but Gibbs' entrance halted the conversation. "Patterson's team needs you at a scene, Duck."

_Did you kill someone, Jethro?_

Gibbs looked at his injured agent, "Come on, DiNozzo. I'm taking you home."

Tony wouldn't look at Gibbs, and he didn't even need a glance to know that the lead agent was furious with him.

"Jethro, may I speak with you outside, please?" Ducky asked, his eyes still on Tony.

"I've done concussion checks before, Duck. We'll be fine."

Ducky started to protest, but Gibbs cut him off. "Really, Duck. I'll call if I need anything."

The doctor thought about dragging Gibbs into the hall and ordering him to go easy on Tony, who was clearly hurting—and in so many ways. The last thing the young man needed was Gibbs being rough with him: It would only serve to cement his beliefs that he deserved the abuse. "Every two hours," Ducky said anyway. "And he cannot be alone," he added pointedly.

"I know, Duck. Go. Patterson's a bear when he's kept waiting."

Ducky gave Tony a final pat on the knee and left, giving Gibbs a warning glare he might as well have snatched off the lead agent's very own face. Gibbs just stared at Tony, who refused to look at him.

"Let's go, DiNozzo," he said, actually succeeding at keeping the most of the anger out of his voice. It was mostly the damage to Tony's face that allowed it.

"You don't have to babysit me, Gibbs," Tony said tiredly. He just wanted to go home and sleep for days.

"Were you not listening?" Gibbs asked, his annoyance creeping into his voice. "You can't be alone after that knock to the head."

"Who said I was going to be alone?" DiNozzo tossed back at him, the words pointy and sharp even as his voice continued to weaken. He'd be lucky if he could speak at all by nightfall. She would like that. "Amberleigh's coming over tonight."

Gibbs snorted. "And I'm supposed to trust the bimbo of the week to wake you up every couple of hours? And Amberleigh? Sounds like a stripper name."

Gibbs could practically hear Tony's teeth grinding before the young agent said, "She's a nurse at GW. Blond, about 5'9", really nice ass. Need to know anything else? You want to run a full background check on her?"

"Be specific when you lie, huh?" Gibbs said, narrowing his eyes.

DiNozzo just rolled his. "Relax, Gibbs. Just because you need rules for lying doesn't mean everyone else does too."

"Of course you don't," Gibbs said caustically. "It just comes naturally to you."

Gibbs didn't miss the brief flicker of hurt that crossed Tony's bruised face, but he didn't allow himself to feel bad. DiNozzo's safety was more important than his feelings right now.

Gibbs drove in his usual rough style and by the time they reached Tony's apartment building, the injured agent looked positively green. Neither man had said a word on the drive over, and that was fine with Gibbs because he was equal parts infuriated and worried sick about DiNozzo and that was a dangerous combination for the lead agent. Tony didn't have too much time to think since he was concentrating on not throwing up.

By the time DiNozzo slid the key into his lock, he was seriously struggling, his body screaming at him that it had been abused and didn't like it one bit. Tony was unnerved by the way Gibbs seemed to know he was two steps away from collapsing and so hovered at his elbow.

He leaned against a wall, debating just going to bed without a word to his boss and self-appointed Florence Nightingale. He hadn't asked for company, after all. But he said, "Make yourself at home." He turned but stopped halfway. "She might show up here tonight… which is why we're here and not at your place, I guess," he said, realizing.

Gibbs was watching him with narrowed eyes. "Thought you said she was definitely coming."

_Damned concussion. Goddammit. _

"Yeah, well, it's Thursday," DiNozzo backtracked. "She always comes after work on Thursdays."

Gibbs debated letting him go since he looked like hell and had to be in pain. "And if she didn't? Would you have called me? Anyone?"

_And the winner for best non-answer goes to…_

"Can you be civil if she shows up?"

"Ducky give you anything for the pain?"

"Try not to wear out my coffeemaker."

"I'll wake you in an hour."

* * *

Gibbs almost shot her.

And they didn't even have to have a conversation first.

She slipped through the door well after midnight, rousing Gibbs from a shallow slumber on DiNozzo's buttery soft black leather couch. She stopped short at the gun suddenly pointing at her, but she didn't speak.

"I'm his boss," Gibbs said gruffly, lowering the weapon but for some reason unwilling to put it down. "He got hurt on the job. Has a concussion. Needs to be woken up every two hours."

She nodded silently, her gleaming eyes still on the gun. She turned and moved through the moonlit room down the hall, and Gibbs noticed she carried no purse and he saw no outline of a wallet on the shapely pockets of the jeans that fit her like a glove. It seemed she had brought only herself—and DiNozzo's key. That unsettled Gibbs deeply as he moved to the door to leave. Her cold, dead eyes flashed before him as he turned the knob, and he turned back and went to the couch.

As much as he hated the thought of the consequences of his staying, he couldn't make himself leave him with her. DiNozzo was too important. He was worth the possible discomfort of having to listen to the two of them in bed, the awkwardness of the conversation that would come in the morning—if the woman learned to speak before then.

* * *

"You came," he whispered sleepily, not getting up when she entered the dim bedroom and stripped, her statuesque body silhouetted in the moonlight streaming through sheer curtains.

"Who is he?" she demanded, sitting cross-legged on the bed beside him. Normally her eyes would have been boring into his, but tonight she stared at the bruises on his belly, the evidence of Kellerman's rage blending with her own passionate markings. She did not touch him.

"My boss. Hit my head at work, need to have someone wake me every couple of hours."

"Will he leave now?"

"I don't know," Tony answered honestly, his eyes on her glowing ones as she took in the damage to his face. Butterfly fingers flitted over his cheek, then drifted down to visit the stitches in his lip. She leaned down and kissed him deeply, her soft lips muting his gasp. He felt her tongue flick across the stiff stitches, but her hands dragged his attention to another body part as she stroked, caressed, rubbed…

She straddled him slowly and he sensed a gentleness in her movements he'd never felt before. She lowered herself onto him but didn't begin her usual grinding. Instead, she let her hands trail down his chest—no nails this time, just soft fingertips that coaxed shivers from his abused muscles. He flinched when her hands found that same tender spot in his belly, but she began moving on him and he soon forgot the pain, drowning in her rhythm.

She leaned forward, her chest pressing against his, and her felt her small hands encircle his mostly healed wrists. She pushed his hands above his head, her eyes boring into his when he winced at the pain of the stretching torn skin of the bite mark. He gripped the headboard even though it hurt his right hand, sore from the solid contact with Kellerman's face. As if sensing his pain, she covered his hand with hers and gripped tightly, pressing her lips to his groan.

She kissed him deeply as the pace of her rocking picked up, sending his mind reeling as he tiptoed along the razor's edge between agony and ecstasy. He hissed in pain as her pert little nose brushed his broken one, and he felt her shudder with pure delight, a happy little noise emitting from low in her throat. Her hands left his and he released a breath in sheer relief he hadn't realized he'd been holding as the fire in his damaged hand cooled to mere embers.

Her fingers found the swelling around his eye on their way to the back of his head, where they practically vibrated upon meeting the knot there. The finger shivers matched the intensity of their shared orgasm and she collapsed forward onto him, her beautiful face landing in the crook of his shoulder, her breath puffing across his skin broken by her teeth. She lay there for several long moments, and while nothing about her was heavy, her weight settled heavily on his bruised midsection, making his breath come in sharp little gasps that had nothing to do with their lovemaking.

The heavy breathing, the residual dizziness from the concussion, the painkillers, the residual pain, her beauty, her intensity all combined to form a heady brew that left him reeling and confused.

He must have passed out because he woke up minutes—hours?—later to her digging slender fingers into his hip, bruised from where she punched him the day before.

"Mmmm?" he questioned, wincing out the sound as he found his pain had reached a crescendo with a nausea accompaniment.

He opened his eyes to searing pain jabbing through his skull—and her lovely eyes on him, all full of childlike wonderment. She laid a gentle hand on his bruised belly, her pale fingers a sharp contrast to his purpled skin. "Hit me. Make me as beautiful as you, as this."

He blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision. He wondered if his hearing was just as blurry. "You're already beautiful. I couldn't hurt you."

He couldn't quite stifle the soft cry of pain when she slapped him hard across the face. His broken nose and split lip shrieked in protest even as he lay quietly, looking up at her.

"I'm leaving."

And she did.

* * *

Gibbs feigned sleep and watched her go through half-closed lids. He noted that she didn't lock the door behind her.

He heard a shower start up and shuddered—as much at the thought of DiNozzo having sex as him doing it now, so soon after taking such a brutal beating. He wondered if she had hurt him and suddenly wanted to follow her, invite her back—and shoot her.

He was crafting pretty lies about her impending home invasion accident when he realized DiNozzo was watching him from the hallway. The young agent was leaning heavily against the wall, his plaid pajama bottoms clashing wildly with his bright red Ohio State T-shirt. His wet hair was part sticking up, part falling forward toward his bruised, swollen face, and Gibbs almost flinched at his vulnerability in that moment.

"How are you feeling?" Gibbs asked, his tone so blank it might have been a whiteout on a cold winter night.

"Like it's four in the morning. Like my boss is in my home because I got the shit beat out of me yesterday and could die if someone doesn't wake me regularly and I don't have anyone else outside of work to do that little favor for me. Like you just listened to my fuckbuddy do what fuckbuddies do. Like your crazy-good senses probably picked up on her slapping me when I refused to hit her back. Like everything hurts and I'm dizzy and want to puke—and I'm not sure which part of this mess is causing that sensation but I do know one thing." His eyes hit the floor with a guilty _splat_. "You saved my life yesterday and I didn't thank you for that. You're pissed at me and yet it's 4 a.m. and you're still here. And of all the shit that's so very wrong right now, that's what making me the most sick."

Gibbs had been slowly moving toward him, warily, as if approaching a wounded animal. By the time DiNozzo stopped talking and started sliding, Gibbs was there, wrapping strong arms around his shaking friend.

"It's okay, Tony," he said, holding him close, letting him regain his strength. "Come sit down. Everything's going to be all right."

Tony allowed himself to be led to the couch, biting back a groan as he sat, leaning forward, his arms braced on his thighs, eyes shut tightly against pain and confusion and shame.

"Here," Gibbs said, offering a handkerchief. "You're bleeding again."

Tony's hands were shaking too badly so Gibbs cleaned the agent's face and tilted his head forward so he wouldn't choke on his own blood, guiding his hands up to pinch the bridge of his broken nose.

"How did I get here?" Tony asked softly.

"Now a bad time for a concussion joke?" Gibbs asked, his hand landing on Tony's knee as the young man either snorted a laugh or choked on a sob. Funny how similar the two sounded with a broken nose.

"Thank you," Tony said again, looking Gibbs in the eyes. "I was getting my ass kicked yesterday and with him choking me like that… You saved my life, Gibbs. Thank you."

"You never should have been chasing him alone, and that's on me," Gibbs said, tapping Tony gently with two fingers under the chin. "Tilt back a little. Gotta get that bleeding to stop."

They were quiet until Gibbs said, "I can't believe she hit you with your face like that. Are you going to break it off with her?"

Tony waited a beat, and Gibbs felt his anger's painful rebirth. _Goddammit, Tony. _

Tony nodded finally. He swallowed hard and his voice was strained when he said, "The way she was looking at me, the bruises, the way she touched the swelling… I wasn't expecting her to comfort me—"

_Of course not, Tony. You never expect people to be decent to you._

"—but I also wasn't expecting her… _glee _…when she saw the bruises, how much I was hurting. I don't like people fawning all over me—never have—but I wanted… I _needed_ her to be more…"

"Human?" Gibbs supplied, Tony's soft admissions tearing his heart into monochromatic confetti.

Tony nodded, his eyes miserable—and frightened, Gibbs noticed. "She's going to come back tonight."

"Then we won't be here," Gibbs said simply, his hand finding Tony's knee again as he saw sudden tears gather in his stormy eyes. "You can stay with me for a while. You shouldn't be alone, anyway, not with that goose egg on the back of your head."

Tony blinked slowly, letting the tears dissolve even though he wanted desperately to just let them run down his face and wash away the feel of her mouth on his, her tongue prodding his stitched lip. "You don't know her, Gibbs. I mean, I don't really, either," he admitted, his cheeks ablaze with shame. "But she won't give up easily."

Gibbs' gaze grew steely, but Tony knew the anger wasn't directed at him. "Then we'll get a restraining order. I'll serve it to her myself if I have to. You're not alone in this, Tony. I'm here for you, Ducky's here. McGee and Ziva and Abby will help you through this, even if you don't want to give them specifics. They'll understand."

The tears were back, slipping down bruised, pale cheeks like condensation on a cold drink on a hot day. The description was apt, Tony thought, because he felt numb, like he was filled with ice, but he knew Gibbs was right: He would be surrounded by warmth if only he would ask for it.

If Gibbs' heart was confetti before, Tony's silent crying and strained words ground it into particles not even identifiable by Abby's beloved Major Mass Spec. "What's wrong with me, Gibbs?"

_I have my suspicions on that, _Gibbs thought, though he'd never bring them up. Not now, not with Tony already sitting thoroughly gutted beside him. _Could it be that love and pain are synonymous in that head of yours?_

Gibbs realized he hadn't spoken, hadn't given the answers Tony was so desperately looking for. He wasn't even sure if he was right, but fuck it. Deep conversations occurring at 4 a.m. were no time for withholding.

"I'm not Ducky," Gibbs said. "I don't have that kind of training, but I've seen a lot of shit in this crazy career of ours. And I don't know specifics about how you were raised, but I do know that when a child is hurt by the very people who are supposed to love and protect them, it causes problems. Big problems. Big problems that become bigger as you ignore them, as you stuff it all down. And there's only so many places to stow baggage, DiNozzo."

Tony was silent and Gibbs feared he'd said something wrong—or simply said too much, burying the aching young man in a pile of words he couldn't handle all at once. Or couldn't handle all coming from _him_ at once.

"I don't wanna hurt anymore."

Gibbs breathed a sigh of pure relief. "Good, Tony," he said, squeezing his knee again. "That's really good to hear."

Gibbs looked away, giving Tony time to collect himself and wipe the tears from his face. Gibbs almost wished he'd leave them there as wet medals commemorating his accomplishment.

"I'm really tired, Boss," Tony said quietly, his gaze shifting toward the hall. "Can I sleep here? I don't want to go back in there just yet. You can have the guest room."

"Sure, Tony," Gibbs said. _As if I could deny you anything right now. _"Did Ducky give you anything for the pain?"

Tony nodded. "Kitchen, by the sink."

"Good," Gibbs said, getting up. "You look like you're in pain and I don't want you to hurt anymore."

Gibbs returned with the medication and a glass of water. That taken care of, he turned to head down the hall, but he stopped, turning back. "I'll wake you in a couple hours."

"Thank you, Gibbs," Tony said, his eyes opening again and locking with Gibbs', communicating the depth of those little words.

"You're welcome, DiNozzo," he said, but he didn't turn to leave just yet.

"And Tony?"

"Yeah, Boss?" he asked tiredly, but feeling closer to okay than he had in months.

"I didn't save your life," Gibbs said quietly. "You're doing that yourself."

* * *

**A/N: **I don't usually beg for reviews, but since this is such a departure from my usual writing (and yet it isn't, somehow), I'd really like to hear from readers—even if you didn't like it. Much of this is probably AU and wildly OOC, but writing this was wholly cathartic, and while I won't apologize for it, I would gladly accept suggestions to improve it. Thanks for reading. Also, I own nothing and all characters are the property of their respective owners.


End file.
